


All the Time in the World

by ihopehellhaswifi



Series: Just Like Heaven [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little bit of food kink?, Cardboard box sex, Dirty Supernatural Imagines, F/M, Fluff, Smut, can stand alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihopehellhaswifi/pseuds/ihopehellhaswifi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by: Imagine Gabriel fucking you in a cardboard house you both made, from Dirty Supernatural Imagines on Tumblr. </p><p>Smutty smut smut smut with lots of talking and stupid sweet stuff, and some more smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Time in the World

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote smutty Gabriel because Richard Speight Jr is systematically destroying my world.  
> I’ve never done this before. Be gentle.

Light from the television flickered and illuminated the dark room, chasing the shadows around the odd shape on the bed. 

Gabriel stared, eye narrowed, head cocked to one side.

A box. A very large, long box. Draped with a blanket. Just sitting on the bed. There appeared to be a small window cut in the side facing the TV.

He approached the box cautiously. 

_Frigidaire_ , the box said. 

“Uh huh,” Gabriel mumbled and, hand balled, rapped a tune on the top _(side?)_. “Hoooooney, I'm hooooome!” He sang, and peaked in the window.

“AHHCCCCK!” The box shrieked, shaking. “JESUS I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT SHIT!” 

“Jesus ain't got nothing to do with it, Sweetcheeks,” Gabriel smirked as your face appeared in the window. “Doing some redecorating?” He asked, motioning to the box. 

You gave a small laugh and swiped your hand across your brow before answering.

“I guess I was just missing home.” At his expression, you clarified, “I used to do this a lot as a kid. It made me feel safe.” 

“You have an Archangel on speed dial and your idea of comfort and safety is a refrigerator box,” Gabriel stated. 

You shrugged. “It's pretty friggin' stupid now that I think about it. Visibility's shit. I didn't even know you were on the place. But hey! It's actually kinda cozy once you're inside,” you smiled slyly.

“Is that an invite?” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows. 

“Well, you have to know the secret password,” you added.

“Secret password?” 

“Absolutely. Every respectable cardboard fortress has a secret password,” you informed him. 

“Do I get a hint? Can I pick a category?” 

You raised an eyebrow in response.

Gabriel sighed dramatically. “I have your favorite...” He produced a bag of candy from his jacket and dangled it in front of the window. 

“However did you know?” You laughed, and popped open the end of the box near the foot of the bed.

Gabriel smirked. “I always know what my lady wants.” And just like that, he was in the box, arms braced on either side of you, dusting a kisses on the tip on your nose, across your cheek, before settling sweetly on your mouth. 

You smiled into him, running your fingers through his hair. Then, bringing your knees up on either side of him, you pressed your hips into his and squeezed gently with your thighs. You reveled in the gasp he fed you. He drew back to gaze into your eyes, and promptly hit his head on the roof of the box. 

You laughed, full and unabashedly, leaning up to place another small kiss to his lips before releasing him and settling back down into your nest of pillows and blankets. 

“Sugar,” Gabriel playfully whined, rubbing his head. 

“I'll have you know, I'm very invested in this movie. Also the size and structural integrity of this box is questionable at best.” 

“We could ditch the box.”

“The box stays.”

“I could build you a cardboard mansion in no time flat.” 

“That's cheating.”

“You're such a tease,” Gabriel sighed, repositioning himself off to your right. You rolled to your left and he spooned against you, kissing the shell of your ear. The bag of candy appeared in front of you and he reached around to grab a piece, popping it into his mouth.

“Mmhmm,” you agreed, grabbing a sweet for yourself. He smiled into your hair, and the two of you watched the movie, occasionally running a mocking commentary, until you fell asleep. 

_____________________

On Thursday, you passed by the living room and noticed what appeared to be a large, old Samsung television box sitting in the middle of the floor. There were six boxes for bulk cheese poofs and Swedish Fish in the kitchen, and a treadmill box standing in your (thankfully dry) bathtub. _But no Gabriel_ , you mused.

Friday, three bulk Pop-Tart boxes showed up stacked on top of your computer. A box for an industrial mixer appeared on your porch that afternoon. _Still no Gabriel_.

Walking through the living room on Saturday, eight cardboard boxes of varying largeness materialized, hovered in the air for a split second, then clattered to the ground. You blinked, glancing around for your resident Trickster, then shrugged before moving them against the wall with the others.

On Sunday, you turned the corner into your hallway to find several Marshall amplifier boxes stuck to your ceiling. You took a step forward and the one nearest to you shivered and dropped to your feet, where it rested for a moment before delicately floating back to its position on the ceiling.

Experimentally, you took another step. 

The box dropped again, waited, then floated back to the ceiling. 

Mouth hanging open, staring at the trembling boxes incredulously, you half-laughed, half-sighed, “Seriously?” 

You were sure something brushed your hair, and were absolutely positive you heard Gabriel's laughter as you dashed down the hall, hands up to shield your head from the falling boxes. Fifteen minutes and some frustrated prodding with a broom handle later, you ushered the jittery boxes into the living room with the others.

Monday, you returned from the store to find all of the boxes, plus some several others, listing gently in the air around your living room. You reached into your shopping tote and retrieved a roll of industrial strength duct tape and a box cutter. You grinned maniacally and, plucking the nearest two boxes from the air, went to work.

For about twenty minutes.

And then the phone rang.

A hunter friend had some questions about a possible Woman in White two states over, and you spent the rest of the afternoon digging up what you could find on the Internet and through the grapevine, to little avail. That night, you fell asleep in a restless heap on the couch, creative endeavors forgotten.  
Tuesday, you spent the majority of the day sliding through microfiche at a library over an hour's drive from home. You caught a break in the form of Ilse Mae Steward and her deviant and unfaithful hubby, Reverend James, who shed their mortal coils circa 1884 along with their five children through circumstances that were at the very least sketchy and convoluted. 

When you finally dragged in, you staggered blindly to bed, not even noticing the growing box fortress sprawled across the living room. 

Wednesday morning, you woke up to the smell of crepes. You stretched, then blinked in confusion after realizing your hand hadn't made contact with the walls of the refrigerator box fort that should have been on your bed. You sat up slowly.

Sunlight filtered through pencil-sized pinholes and small cut out windows, illuminating the low and sloping brown structure that surrounded you. You were in a lush pile of faux-fur blankets and pillows that were decidedly not yours. 

An alien lava lamp glowed from its place atop a small, rabbit-eared television on the opposite side of the cardboard room. 

Glancing around, you found two tunnels. Following the smell of delicious breakfast, you ducked down and began to crawl. 

 

_____________________

The tunnel you chose was about twenty feet long and held together with a mixture of Hello Kitty and Spider-Man duct tape. It made a few bends, and the end was covered with a beaded curtain. You swiped the curtain out of your way and clamored to your feet. 

Immediately, you were greeted with the sight of your MIA Archangel, looking every ounce then imposing figure he was meant to be in red and white heart patterned apron, and not much else.

“Good morning, Sunshine!” He called out, not turning around as he ladled more batter into the pan. You snickered. 

Walking up behind him, you rested your chin on his shoulder. 

“My, my. A veritable fortress constructed from cardboard _and_ breakfast? Are you trying to seduce me, Mister Trickster?” You kissed the spot right behind his ear and grabbed a handful of glorious Gabriel ass. 

He jumped and laughed, spinning on you as he did. 

“Hey now!” He tapped you on the nose. “That's entirely inappropriate. I came here to build a cardboard box house and make you a lovely breakfast, and here you are objectifying me,” he scolded with mirthful eyes. 

“Mmhmm,” you murmured, pressing kisses to his neck and jaw. 

“And here I am baring my soul to you- well, figuratively- and you're treating me like a piece of meat,” he continued dramatically. 

“Sounds good, babe,” you teased, peppering kisses to his exposed collarbone and the hollow of his throat.

“And you- oh...” He trailed off, bringing a hand to the side of your face and holding your head against his chest.

“Mmhmm,” you agreed again, turning your head to swipe your tongue at the pad of his thumb, and then pausing. 

“Nyaaaa,” Gabriel whined. 

“What happened to your hand?” You frowned, straightening.

“Huh? Oh! Haha... That...” He actually looked sheepish. Although, he was a very good actor. 

You stepped back and took his hands in yours, lifting them palm up to get a better look. 

The forefinger, index and ring fingers on his left hand wear wrapped in tiny butterfly bandages; the same fingers plus the thumb of his right hand matched. 

“What's with the band-aids?” You asked incredulously. 

“Wellll,” he dragged out, shuffling from one foot to the other. “You said building a cardboard fort with magic was cheating,” he explained. 

“Well, yeah. And you care since when?” You asked pointedly. He gave an overly dramatic gasp and an eye roll as he clutched at his heart. 

“You wound me, Sugar!” He softened, straightening and taking a step toward you. “I wanted to make something for you. Actually make something for you.” He brought his hand to your cheek. “I'd hoped we could do it together, but...” You leaned into his palm.

“Shit happens,” you finished, grabbing his hand again. “And your angel juice was no match for the mean ol' box cutter?” 

“Mostly paper cuts. I wasn't expecting that. Need to brush up on my arts and crafts,” he supplied, bring his arms around your waist and pulling you to him. 

“Uh-huh.” You leaned back to meet his eyes, which rolled again. 

“Aaaand, _maybe_ I left all the boo-boos there to garner little sympathy for my strife. It was hard work! I'm used to pulling things out of thing air, a little alchemy here, and little transfiguration there! But I made this here, just for you, with my own two hands.” 

With those same two hands, he gave your bottom a squeeze for emphasis. You squealed, then returned the favor, throwing in a pinch for good measure as you leaned in for another kiss. 

“Mmm,” Gabriel moaned against your lips, and you responded with a sigh. He broke the kiss, trailing smaller ones up the side of your face. “Crepes,” he whispered. 

You squinted and pulled back. “Huh?” 

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he pressed another kiss to the center of your forehead. 

“Crepes, Sweet-Thang,” he said turning in your arms to face the stove. He slipped the slightly over-cooked crepe onto a sheet of wax paper. “I was shooting for breakfast-in-fort, but you got the jump on me. Sneaky.” 

You thumped your head against his back in frustration before reassuming your position propped on his shoulder. Groaning, you kissed up his neck, and muttered, “Crepes can wait.” 

You slipped your arms around his waist beneath the apron, trailing a hand down his stomach to wrap around the veritable treasure between his thighs. He hummed and leaned into your hand. Then, using what you could only assume was several millennia worth of carefully cultivated, if not exercised, restraint, he proceeded to ladle another crepe's worth of batter into the pan. 

“Really?” You nipped at the apex of his neck and shoulder. 

“You're making this 'making things for you' thing really difficult, you know?” 

“You seem pretty hung up on this. Am I going to have to resort to conniving and subterfuge?” 

“It does make things more interesting,” Gabriel shrugged, trembling slightly in your grasp as you continued to stroke his cock. 

“You're not going to stop cooking, are you?” 

You could practically feel him smirking. He lifted the pan from the stove eye to slide another crepe onto the pile. 

“Fine then,” you said, then sank your teeth into a particularly loved patch of skin about his shoulder blade. The pan clattered on the cook top, and Gabriel let out a nigh-inhuman sound of pleasure. 

“Sugar, you're killing me here,” he panted. 

“That wasn't really the plan. Although death by crepes and sweaty cardboard box sex does sound pretty appealing,” you mused. “Ooh,”you breathed as you disappeared from him. 

A bowl of fruit filling and a bowl of chocolate sauce sat on the counter, right next to a can of Reddi-Wip. 

Gabriel quickly poured the last of the crepe mix into the pan as you hopped up onto the space beside the stove.

You grabbed one of the bowls and dipped your finger in to lick the sweet filling off.

“Nah-uh-uh!” Gabriel scolded you, taking the bowl from your hand. “Wouldn't want you to spoil your appetite!” He wagged a finger in your face. 

You huffed and groaned and and rolled your eyes. “But-”

“No buts. Well, maybe some butts,” he mused, poking the side of yours with a spatula. 

“That's probably unsanitary,” you stated.

“If you've got problem with that, I'm not too sure that this breakfast is going to go exactly according to plan,” he feigned disappointment. 

“That so?” You asked, hopping off the counter. Some of the crepe filling remained on your hand and you reached over to swipe it across his mouth. Amusement flitted across his face, and you took his head in your hands, dragging his mouth to yours. “I don't think it'll be a problem,” you murmured. 

Fingers tangled in his hair, you nipped and licked at the sweetness upon his lips as they crashed down onto yours. Each moan and sigh you gave, he returned, pressing into you. Your back hit the edge of the counter and you broke away to breathe. 

Meeting his eyes, burning and golden and fierce, you pressed another hot kiss to his lips. You felt him bump against your thighs and glanced down. A smile quirked at the corner of your mouth as you met his gaze. 

“Stove off. Breakfast later. Need you,” you said between quick kisses down his jaw and chest. 

“Need you,” he echoed, clicking his fingers. 

You grabbed the can of whipped cream from the counter and dropped to your knees. Eye-level with a very obvious erection bobbing beneath his truly striking apron, you flipped up the offending fabric while simultaneously popping the top off the can. 

“Sugar,” Gabriel breathed as you gripped his cock, swirling cool whip around the tip. The can rolled aside, forgotten. 

You ran your thumb along the underside while cupping his balls in your other hand. Your tongue flicked out and danced around the head, lapping at the whipped cream as you went. You swirled you tongue around again before flattening it against his frenulum, trailing up to swipe off the last of the confection, dipping into the tip. Hearing Gabriel's breath quicken, you flicked your tongue quickly before taking him partially into your mouth and sucking. You felt his thighs tense and trembled on either side of you as you worked him with your lips and tongue, pumping the base of his shaft with your hand. He gripped the counter top on either side of you and swayed.

You bobbed around him, tracing with your tongue every line and groove that you had learned so well in your time together, pressing on until you felt him resting against the back of your throat and then some. You hollowed your cheeks, drawing back and down again, sliding your tongue against him as you went. 

Feeling your own arousal weep onto your thighs, you brought the hand with which you'd previously stroked him down to touch yourself. The other slipped around to grab the cheek of his ass. He groaned, bucking against you slightly, causing you to moan around him. Another inhuman sound escaped him and you heard a cracking noise before you found yourself dragged to your feet, Gabriel's lips devouring your own. 

Behind you, you felt part of the counter top crumble against your back and you laughed as it shattered against the floor. “You're fixing that,” your mutter turned into a sharp intake of breath as he brought your hand to his mouth, sucking your own wetness from your fingers. 

“Later. Need you,” he repeated, trailing hot wet kisses down your palm and arm and across your shoulder. 

You didn't remember getting naked. 

Whatever.

You hummed in content, and then an idea came to you. 

“Wait,” you said, pulling back. Gabriel continued dropping kisses across your collarbone and across the top of your breast, giving you a slight nip at your request. 

“No, wait,” you urged him, sliding a hand between you to rest above his heart. “Gabriel, wait.”  
At this he stopped, drawing back with confusion in his eyes. 

“Sugar...? Did I-” 

“Shhhh,” you cut him off, dragging down his lips. You kissed them at the corner. 

“I just thought,” you began, slowly extricating yourself from him. “It might be fun,” you continued, stepping around him but keeping eye contact. “If...”

“If...” He pressed, smirking. 

“If you had to,” you trailed off, backing so as to easily clear the table.

“Uh-huh,” he coaxed.

“Catch me!” You shouted gleefully, dancing across the kitchen and sliding into the cardboard tunnel.  
You heard his laughter, and momentarily wondered at the sound before you felt the structure shaking from movements that were not your own. You picked up the pace and had made it nearly to the apparent bed/nest room when you felt his hand around your ankle. He gave a little tug, causing you to belly-flop across the threshold and into the pile of blankets in a fit of laughter. 

And then he was upon you, arm sliding around your waist to pull you to your knees as he knelt behind you. His teeth sank into the apex of your neck and shoulder, and he gave a hard suck. 

“I win,” he teased, breath warm again your ear. You whimpered. 

And then he was inside you, buried to the hilt. It happened quickly, and wasn't entirely expected or typical, but he stretched you beautifully, and you thought you might actually weep from the intensity of it all. 

You'd fucked Gabriel before. You'd been intimate with him on levels that you couldn't contest to where anyone else was concerned. But right then and there, his cock sunk into you, face hidden in your neck, and _was he shivering?_ You knew something was different. 

He regained his composure, withdrew nearly completely, then slammed into you again. Keeping this tense pace, you felt him rise from his position leaning over your back. Delving into your folds to circle your clit with the fingers of one hand, he brought the other to the back of your neck. He ran his fingers across your shoulder blades and down your spine, over the curves of your hips and ass, as though he were trying to memorize you. An expressly pleasured sound escaped your throat, and you felt that familiar pressure building up inside you. 

“Please,” you gasped, “Gabe, please.” 

His fingers tapped a rhythm around your nub, and he kept his driving pace, leaning down to leave another lover's mark on your back. 

Your walls trembled around him before clenching tight. You let out a strangled sound as an orgasm wracked through you. 

His rhythm stuttered and he pulled you up so that your back was pressed against his chest. He dragged a hand up across your stomach, around the underside of your breast, up and to your face, turning your head to bring your lips to his once more. 

Still kissing you, he brought both hands back to your hips and gripped them tightly, now grinding against you. 

You pulled away from him long enough to turn in his arms and slide onto his lap. Meeting his gaze with a smirk, you mounted him. 

In the same fashion that he'd traced your back, he brought a hand to your face.

Curiously, you watched him watch you.

How he watched your face flush and your chest heave.

How he watched the bead of sweat slip from the hollow of your throat and roll between your breasts.

How he followed it with his tongue. 

How he took each nipple in his mouth and worshiped them as though he were a condemned man and you were his only salvation. 

How he looked at you when you sank down onto him again, slowly, slowly. 

You rocked together, a steady pace spiraling into something needy and frantic and consuming. You urged him onto his back as you rode him into another orgasm. This time, the world flickered and darkened at the edges and the air left your lungs. You were grounded only by the feeling of his fingertips digging into your hips. The room spun around you, and suddenly Gabriel was above you, around you, inside you, everywhere at once. Legs tight around his waist, rising and falling to meet him at an unbelievable rate, everything was too bright and too dark, impossibly fast or exceptionally slow. There was a thrumming, like a heartbeat in your head, only you were positive it was way too fast to be yours.

Gabriel pressed himself against you, attacking your mouth once more. He thrust one, two, three, four, five, six, seven more times before you felt him tense and swell inside you. He growled out something in a language you were sure you didn't know as he came, which sent you careening over the edge again. The lights flashed and the world stood still. Stars exploded, burning an imprint of six enormous wings fanning across the ceiling and behind your eyelids.

And then, nothing. 

 

You blinked and blinked again. You were laying in a pile of blankets in a dimly lit... 

Box fort? 

_Oh yeah._

_Ooooh._

_Yeeeah..._

You lay tucked into Gabriel's side, his fingers drawing patterns on your back. 

You stretched, soreness burning through your muscles. 

“I'm not gonna be able to walk for a week,” you decided aloud, propping your head on his chest.

He hummed noncommittally in reply. 

“I'll just have to carry you.” 

“That seems pretty impractical,” you pointed out. “You could summon me a hovercraft.”

“A hovercraft wouldn't fit through your front door, Sweetcheeks,” he paused. “I could fix them,” he decided. 

“And the kitchen,” you reminded him. 

“And the kitchen,” he agreed, reaching over to touch one of your bruises. You jerked away, cringing slightly as you did, and grabbed his hand. 

“No. I want to keep them. As a reminder. For when you're not here.” 

Gabriel frowned,”When I'm not here?” 

“I haven't seen you in a week, you ass. I was starting to miss your stupid face,” you poked his cheek for emphasis. 

“Just because you didn't see me doesn't mean I wasn't here-”

“That's not creepy,” you interjected. 

“I don't hear you complaining. Also, I think you would've been more freaked out about the boxes,” he argued. 

“Point.” You tilted your head. “What got you in the mood to play box-house anyway?” 

Gabriel shrugged beneath you. “Not enough headroom in the Frigidaire house. Puts some serious program restrictions on doing the horizontal tango,” he explained. “I mean, I'm sure between the two of us, we're creative enough to make it work if you wanna give it a go sometime.”

You snickered. “Frigidaire box is about on its last corrugated legs. We might need to take care of it soon,” you admitted. “Alright. So you built me a cardboard love shack with your own two hands, which I appreciate thoroughly even if the lava lamp might be a bit of a fire hazard. What made you decide to actually cook breakfast instead of just bamfing the International House of Pancakes into the kitchen?” 

Rolling his head and shoulders, he adopted that sheepish look from earlier. 

“I told you, I wanted to make you something.” He kissed your forehead. 

“But you-”

“Something real,” He cut you off. 

You grew silent, unsure of what to think. You knew he'd said that before, but you hadn't really thought he'd been serious. 

“You said you felt safe, and that you couldn't just magic one. I wanted to show you that without my Grace, I can still...” He trailed off, then cleared his throat, “Ideally we would have built one together but-” 

“Shit happens,” you acknowledged again.

“And-”

“Gabriel.” You kissed him softly. “You built a wonderful fort. And I feel safer now than I've ever felt in my life,” you vowed, crawling astride him. “Although it is missing one thing.”

Gabriel's eyes widened. “Which is?” 

You leaned down to his ear and whispered, “A secret password.” 

Gabriel rolled his eyes and dragged you down to kiss him again. You complied, even as you gasped at your soreness. 

“Sugar, are you sure you don't,” the angel between your legs drew away to ask.

“Hush,” you admonished, straightening. You took his hands in yours. “Listen,” you continued, peeling away the butterfly bandages to reveal thin lines crisscrossing his fingertips. 

“Heal these. Heal these because it's a part of you. And never, ever, ever think for one second that because I'm doing something stupid or sentimental, it's because I don't have faith in whatever this...”

You kissed the little cuts, watching them knit shut and disappear before your eyes. You smiled. 

“Don't bleed for me anymore than you have to.”

Gabriel seemed to marvel at you for a moment before a smile crept across his face. Throwing an arm across his forehead, he lamented: “And here I was, trying my best to keep this a magic-free zone! You've thwarted all my good intentioned plans!” 

You laughed sardonically, pressing your hips into his. “I think that went out the window about... How long was I out?” You frowned. 

“Only a couple of minutes,” he laughed. “That, Sugar, is why they call it _la petite mort_. You're welcome,” he smiled smugly. 

“You're full off it,” you tickled his side, gleefully watching him squirm. 

“No, if I remember correctly, that was you.” 

“You're terrible.” 

“You love it.” 

You were silent. He was still. 

“So that wasn't anything out of the ordinary?” You finally asked. “I mean, we've done the do before. A lot. And it was never like that. I mean, it was always freaking fantastic, but it was never like that,” you tried to explain. 

A beat passed. Then two. Then three. 

“It was my Grace,” he said carefully. 

“Your Grace,” you echoed. He took your hand and placed it on his chest above his heart, mimicking the action on yours. 

“I think I- it-” he stopped, searching for the right words. “It passed through you somehow. It recognizes you. It knows you like I know you.” 

“Biblically?” You joked. His lips twitched, but he grew serious again. It was strange. Serious Gabriel worried you sometimes. 

“You... You mean.... to me,” he stopped. “There aren't words. Humans don't have words for what you mean to me. You're...” Your chest tightened at his words and at the sight of the somewhat manic gleam in his eye. You leaned down to kiss him again. 

“You can teach me new ones. Or we can make our own.” Despite your earlier sexcapade leaving you exhausted and sore, you could feel yourself growing wet again as your center brushed against his hardening cock. 

He smiled into you. “Words no one else knows... Those make the best secret passwords,” he suggested, brushing your inner thigh with his thumb.

“Absolutely,” you agreed as you raised your hips and sank onto him, half gasping, half moaning as he stretched you. Your tired muscles screamed in protest, and your insides twinged with a rapturous pain. Gabriel's hands came to your hips to aid you in finding a languid, gyrating rhythm. Your head lolled back and your entire body arched as he angled himself to hit your most sensitive spot. He pulled you to lay against his chest, continuously rocking with you, and spoke. 

Some words you recognized from other languages, some you were sure had ceased to exist long before you'd been born. And then, he spoke in the the unfamiliar yet poignant language he'd used earlier. 

You shouldn't have understood anything he said, but the words struck out at something inside you. His breathing hitched before he continued, every syllable crossing his lips like a prayer. 

Light flared behind your eyelids and you were falling and burning. Gabriel's arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly to him. His lips met yours and you tightened around him as he came again. 

Both of you panting and trembling, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, he pressed his forehead to yours and met your eyes. 

“You're everything,” he whispered, and nipped at your lips. 

“Everything,” you agreed, resting your head on his chest. 

It was all that needed said.

_____________________

You weren't sure how much time elapsed as you lay there basking in one another when your stomach growled. Gabriel hands were working on the tired muscles of your back when he heard it and snickered. 

“Told you we shouldn't skip breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day,” he quipped. You rolled away. 

“Right then. Breakfast in fort. Get to it,” you demanded, stretching out completely. 

“Aren't we bossy now?” 

“Hey, your idea. Also I can't feel my legs. Food. Go.” 

“As you wish.”

In the next moment, he was behind you waving a spoonful of assembled fruity crepe-y goodness in your face. 

“Careful, a girl could get used to this.” 

“I do live to please.” 

“Yeah? I thought you lived to be a pain in the ass,” you joked. 

“Not so far today, Sugar,” he retorted, winking. “But we could work on that.” You rolled your eyes and playfully jabbed at his stomach before allowing him to feed you another bite. 

_____________________

Much, much later in the day (so much later in fact, that you were suspicious about it being day at all), you lay together the pile of blankets. You'd asked Gabriel to magic out the lava lamp in fear of receiving some manner of accidental burn, and the fort was growing darker. Gabriel sealed up the windows, so that the only light filtering through came from the pinholes above you. You stared at them a moment before blinking. 

“Constellations? You built in constellations? Holy shit, that's fantastic!” You laughed, propping up and passing your hand through their light in awe. 

“I thought you'd get a kick out of that.” He pointed to a group over by the corner. “I made that one,” he pointed to another. “That one too.”

You frowned. “But didn't you-” recognition dawned. “Oh! OH! You _made_ them? The actual constellations?” 

“Dad let me help a little. That's my legacy. That and Australia. And part of Florida. Actually, after Cretaceous period, I was mostly put on errand duty.” He gave a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before he caught himself. “Have I mentioned how glad I am you're not a fish?” 

“Shut your mouth, I'd be a bangin' mermaid.”

“For sure. Sex wouldn't be nearly as much fun,” he pointed out, nipping at your shoulder.

“We'd make it work,” you assured him. Glancing over, you noticed how he continued to stare despondently at the constellations. 

“Gabriel,” you began. 

“Yeah, sugar?” 

“Thank you. For sharing this with me,” you clarified, leaning over to kiss his cheek. At that moment, a nearly absurd thought struck you and you began to laugh. 

“Hey! What's so funny?” Gabriel asked, sitting up, still holding on to you. 

“No- No, it's. It's just,” you regained your composure. “You're unbelievable, you know that? You just- literally- gave me stars that you made yourself. That's insane. And fantastic.” You flung your arms around his neck. 

“Now you're just being sappy and cliché.” 

“I'm not even going to point out the hypocrisy there,” you snickered before softening. “It's beautiful. Everything, absolutely all of it. You made a beautiful thing. Thank you.” 

He smiled _that smile_ , the one that could put the sun to shame, and this time it reached his eyes. They crinkled at the corners, and he kissed you again. 

“You know, if you like the fort so much I could drop it in a temporal pocket; we can store it there safe and sound, and break it out for movies and fondue,” he suggested. You hummed in exaggerated consideration. 

“As much as I like that plan, I think I have a better one,” you mused. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked, interest piqued. 

“Mmhmm.” You nodded. 

“Do enlighten me, mighty and all knowing Mistress of the Fort,” he implored.

“Welllll,” you drawled. “As much fun as it is, building a box fort with someone, the only thing that could possibly be more fun is.... Tearing it down.” You grinned a wicked grin, and then Gabriel was above you again. 

“Is that so?” He asked, nose to nose with you. 

“Without a doubt,” you assured him. “Of course, you did an exceptional job with the construction on this one. It's going to definitely take some time and energy. Demolitions can be a very strenuous labor,” you said, gasping as he bucked his hips into yours. 

“Sweetheart,” he purred as he flipped your legs over his shoulders and kissed his way down your chest and stomach. Down, down, down, until he drew back, preparing to delve into your folds. He licked his lips and met your gaze with one of a man starved. 

“We got all the time in the world.” 

 


End file.
